


picking up the pieces with you

by Amie33



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:56:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amie33/pseuds/Amie33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each time he seemed to land the exact year, the exact month, the exact day - and each time he could feel it happening, the exact second when River Song died. No matter where he stood in the universe at that moment, as far as he was from the Library, he always knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	picking up the pieces with you

**Author's Note:**

> I took me more time than you'd think to write this... Unbeta'd

He tried to avoid the 51th century as best as he could, but somehow he kept finding himself there. A peace treaty to negotiate. A planet to save. A companion wanting to sunbathe on the beach planet. Other calls for help. Sometimes only wrong coordinates. Somehow, he couldn’t escape the date. And it wasn’t only the century, each time he seemed to land the exact year, the exact month, the exact day - and each time he could feel it happening, the exact second when River Song died. No matter where he stood in the universe at that moment, as far as he was from the Library, he always knew. He had no idea if it was his mind unconsciously counting down until the right instant or some kind of link between them, invisible, unbreakable, indestructible, but there wasn’t a single time he didn’t feel it. 

He was still in his 10th regeneration when it happened for the first time. He was trapped inside a dark cave, surrounded by the hungriest space wolves, when suddenly it hit him. His breath suddenly short, he winced in pain, his head dizzy, clutching his chest as he felt like his hearts were being crushed by an invisible hand. It felt like something was taken from him, a vital element he had ignored until it disappeared. And then there was guilt, so much guilt it made him suffocate. For a while he thought he would die right there, not because the wolves would take advantage of his sudden state and devour him, but for an unknow reason, a feeling so deep he almost wished to die just so it stopped. But then the sensation faded away, and he just went on. It was only later, when it happened again, and again, that it realised what it was. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

The next version of him hid his pain more efficiently even though it grew bigger and deeper, as did his feelings for her. The more he knew River, the harder it was to feel her die. More than once Amy and Rory were with him when it happened, and he couldn’t let them know, could he? Somewhere, right then, their daughter was dying, again and again, and he couldn’t do anything but to stand still and bear the pain. He often wondered if they could ever feel it too; sometimes Amy had that pressing look in her eyes when he tried so hard to breathe, and he thought maybe they did. 

The Ponds left, and River said her goodbye, and he regenerated. The pain didn’t stop though, even though he didn’t see her for centuries. He kept finding himself in the 51th century, and it still hurt; trembling hands, short breath, hearts about to explode, legs that could barely carry him. 

He was running with Clara once, trying to escape intergalactic killers, when the sensation hit again.

“Doctor, are you okay?” She stared at him with those big eyes of hers, obviously worried he had stopped his race to grip the closest rail and clench at his chest, desperately looking for air.

“Yes, yes,” he shouted at her, and even if she was used to his grumpiness by now the tone of his voice made her flinch. She crossed her arms and answered him with the same tone. 

“Obviously you are not, stop lying to me.” When he didn’t answer, she added, with a softer voice: “What’s happening?”

He sighed, tried to smile to reassure her and stop her questions, but he only managed to wince more. 

“Doctor, please, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me anything.”

“You can’t help. It’s nothing. I just need a few seconds.”

And so for a few seconds she didn’t say anything, just watching him as he fought to get control of his body again. Eventually she just got closer, leaning a soft hand upon his - somehow the pain loosened just a bit by the touch. 

“Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Another sigh left him, which actually sounded like a grumpy huff, and eventually he knew he would give up to her. Clara had saved him many times in many situations, even if it was sometimes another version of her. He owed her a lot, he trusted her a lot. She knew River too, at least enough to understand. If there was anyone he could tell about it, it would be her. And so he did.

“River is dying.”

Clara looked surprised, and she asked hesitantly. “Professor Song? I thought… didn’t she die a long time ago?”

“She did. For me it’s been a while, but it is  _ now _ . Three billions miles away on a planet called the Library, River is dying to save my life.”

His companion just stared at him for while, probably trying to understand everything it meant. If she wondered why he reacted so hard to something that had in fact happened hundred of years ago in his timeline, and that he should have grieved for a long time, she didn’t tell. 

“I’m sorry,” she simply replied, and there was nothing more to say.

But then he forgot Clara and everything he ever said to her. 

It was not short after that he found River again. Breathing, running, alive. They shared an adventure, and Darillium, and then even more adventures. It felt like a proper goodbye this time, years and years together before they eventually parted. 

The pain was different after that, still deep and breathtaking, but it felt  _ right _ . Everything was at its place, and there was none for regret. 

Life went on, he regenerated and still he could feel it. One century, one thousand years later, it was still there. And somehow River never totally disappeared from his life, even if she didn’t know about it.

On the Rain planet she suddenly came out of the forest, drenched and exhausted, but a wonderful smile on her face. She met his eyes just a fraction of seconds, but before he could say anything she ran away in the opposite direction. 

At the Plaplata-platata market he caught a glimpse of her hair, blond curls bouncing as she trotted away. The crowd was too dense, and by the time he reached the point where she had been standing he couldn’t see her anymore, the only thing left her perfume he could recognise in middle of the spices and the flowers.

He met one of her students on Luna, and even took him on the Tardis for a while; he only realised the link when his companion dragged him to one of his classes and he saw who was teaching it. He spent the whole hour staring at her from the back row, drinking every word she said, agreeing with all her conclusions. 

She got him prisoner while he was in his 16th regeneration, and he discovered her as the Queen of Nagatcha; he wondered if she ever had doubts about his identity, when he eventually escaped her prison and left a hole in the middle of its walls. 

Centuries later he sat a few seats from her in a café in New-York, and he just watched her as she sat there for a few hours, looking at the snow falling outside while sipping her tea (milk and just a touch of honey, exactly liked he remembered), her diary laying next to her cup. 

Once she guessed it was him. She fell on him, literally fell from the sky and into his arms. Before he could react she grabbed his hand and dragged him away, plasma guns firing at them. She kissed him at some point, and he knew that it was just a part of her plan to escape but he couldn’t help it, pouring everything he felt for her into their embrace, his lips drinking hers, his hands grasping at her waist like she was going to vanish. When he pulled back her cheek was wet and he realised was from his own tears. They ran together for a while after that, until they didn’t.

One day he saw her entering the Tardis, leaving before reappearing a few seconds later with a new dress and haircut. She stroked the ship as she left, a smile on her face. He didn’t even try to interrupt. He knew it was home for her, and somehow those moments had become home for him too; little seconds where he saw her, felt her, kept loving her. Sometimes pain, sometimes small instants of joy, enough to remind him she was still running somewhere, and so was he. 

 


End file.
